Hero's Redemtion
by Dreamist
Summary: Sephiroth has been ressurected so he could have a second chance, but he hasn't changed. He is cursed and the only way to break it is by learning to love another and her love in return within one year. SephirothXOC Genesis, Zack, and Angeal also appear.
1. Prologue

**Heroes' Redemption**

**By: Harmony Dickerson**

**Prologue**

**One year ago**…Vincent Valentine saved the world from Deepground; the shadow of the former Shinra Electric Power Company.

**Now**…the WRO, under the leadership of Reeve Tuetsi, is working slowly but surely to keep the Planet and its inhabitants safe. It seems as though peace has finally come to the Planet.

Or has it?

Deep within the Bone Mountains of the Icicle Continent…a new evil festers within the jagged peaks. The harsh climate and desolation has helped it grow. It's there; watching and waiting for the moment to come. It would not come suddenly, but slowly like a poison coursing throughout the Planet.

No one knew, save one…and that was the Goddess.

She had knowledge of this evil and knew that it would plunge the world into chaos, but who would stop it? Cloud Strife had certainly been heroic in the past, but she could see that he would not be able to stand up to this new threat. Vincent had been marvelous last year, but he would refuse any part in it.

She finally turned to the Lifestream to give her a hero of its choosing, but to her surprise, it offered someone she never expected:

Sephiroth.

She deemed that he could return, however, hoping that after seeing the consequences of his actions he would repent and change his ways. She decided to revive Zack and Angeal from the Lifestream for her own reasons, and called Genesis to meet them.

She resurrected Sephiroth, but her hopes vanished as she observed what he did.

After his resurrection; he remembered his past atrocities, but it only redoubled his hatred for humans. It also seemed to intensify his madness as well. He didn't try to take over the Planet, however. He learned one thing from his past; he knew that if he tried to take over the Planet he would be stopped.

He resolved to distance himself from people and hate them in solitude. So he traveled throughout the land until he came to an abandoned chateau near a village called Fiamel. It was perfect, for though the chateau was only thirty miles or so from the village it was deep within the forest and sat upon a precipice hidden by tree-covered cliffs. Sephiroth proceeded to dwell within its walls and to never emerge.

Meanwhile, Zack and Angeal are resurrected near the ruins of Midgar. They have no memory of their time in the Lifestream, but retained their memories from four years previously.

Guided by a strange compulsion, they head towards the ruins of Sector 8, where they reunite with Genesis.

Genesis reveals to them that Sephiroth is alive and insists that they must find him.

"Are you sure though?" Zack asked.

"What do you mean?" Angeal inquired.

"Well, Sephiroth has been…messed up and he's done terrible things to so many people. Are you sure we can find him and he won't try to kill us?"

"I thought about that Zack, but I can't help but feel as though we _have _to look for him." Genesis said, "I know this sounds crazy, but I have a feeling. I know he won't hurt us."

"How are we going to do that?" Angeal wondered.

"Perhaps the Planet will show us the way, like it did when you found me." Genesis suggested.

With that advice, the three started to travel southwest; guided by the same compulsion. They enter Fiamel, where the townspeople tell them of a haunted chateau where none dared go. They realize that is where Sephiroth is hiding, and set off towards the chateau.

It was nightfall when they finally reached it and call for Sephiroth after he refused to answer to their persistent banging.

After what seemed like ages, they finally heard footsteps in the entrance hall. It wasn't long after that they saw the door open and Sephiroth appear.

"Who are you?" he asked, his deep voice filled with suspicion.

"Sephiroth, it's us." Angeal answered.

"What do you mean 'us'" he asked coldly.

"Sephiroth, it's _us. _Don't you remember? Genesis, Angeal, and Zack?" Genesis answered.

"Zack, I remember well. You two though…I do remember, but you are too far in the past and not so clear. However, since you are all old friends I'll give you the pleasure of staying here with me. Come.", and with that; he allowed them entrance.

They began to live with Sephiroth in the luxurious chateau, but though they could live comfortably they were not happy. Sephiroth treated them no better than servant; giving them orders and constantly pouring out his hatred upon them. They didn't dare complain or disobey, for fear of what he would do to them. To leave was completely out of the question.

There was also a more mysterious reason they put up with it. They knew…for some reason that something would change, but when and how they didn't know; only that change would come.

Sephiroth didn't seem likely to change. He became more selfish, cruel and unkind as the days passed. The reason was that he himself was not happy, even in his hatred.

So he lived, bitter, hateful, and unhappy, until one night changed everything.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1; Sephiroth's Punishment**

It was the night of April 15th, and the inhabitants of the château had been living this way for nearly three months. The day had been gloomy and depressing for all of them and the night was even worse. Sephiroth was in one of his moods and the others knew better than to disturb him. They were all gathered in the parlor which was the most comfortable room in the château.

It was a large room, with the walls of rich maroon and the floor carpeted in bright royal blue, dominated by a large Persian rug. Two large display cabinets filled with old china, crystal, and precious material sat on opposite sides of the room stood forgotten, almost a waste of space. Two small marble stands stood on either side of the cedar doors with large, emerald-green spheres on top of them. Only three paintings hung on the walls. The first one was above the stand to the right and depicted a stark, desolate plain with grey storm clouds as sky. A solitary figure was walking across the plain.

The second painting was beside one of the display cabinets. It was a wild and fierce painting of as a rocky coast. The rocks were dark, high and jagged, and the waves crashed against the rocks in a white flurry of water and foam.

The third painting hung over the fireplace. It was different from the other in style and it wasn't gloomy or wild, but soft and majestic, depicting a sunrise over snow-capped mountains with the light from the painted sun casting a golden shadow on the mountains, and the colors and lines were softer and more blended.

A roaring fire burned in the black marble fireplace. In front of it and slightly to the left was a large, comfortable armchair of red velvet. To the right of the chair was a small sofa of rich violet.

Sephiroth sat in the chair with his head bowed and eyes partly closed while Zack and Genesis sat on either end of the sofa. Angeal was leaning against the right wall. Genesis had taken out his copy of LOVELESS and was reading silently, but Zack and Angeal had nothing to occupy their time except to stare at the flames in the grate.

Outside the walls of the château, a fierce storm raged. The sky was black as pitch without moon or stars, and the only light that could be seen was the occasional flash of lightning that split the sky. The echoing boom of thunder followed that sounded like giant drums being struck. The rain fell in a deluge so thick that even with a light; a person wouldn't see two feet in front of them. If they stepped out, they would be drenched in less than four seconds. The wind didn't help, for it blew so hard that it drove the rain like bullets and rattled the sturdy shutters of the windows.

The inside of the parlor though, was warm and dry. Then a sound was heard, but it seemed only part of the wind and was ignored. It came again, louder this time, and persisted.

By now they were sure of it: Someone was knocking at the door.

Zack, Genesis, and Angeal all watched Sephiroth apprehensively to see what he would do, but he just remained as he was. When the knocking still persisted, he opened his eyes and lifted his head.

They could tell by the scowl on his face that he wasn't pleased.

"Zack, get the door and see who it is. Tell whoever it is to leave." he snapped.

"Yes sir." Zack sighed as he rose from his seat and made his way to the entrance hall. He approached the enormous, thick, mahogany doors just as the noise stopped. He braced himself for the waterfall of rain, unlocked the doors, and opened them. The rain and wind buffeted his whole front, and with what little visibility was available, endeavored to see who had made the noise.

"Hello?" he shouted over the wind when he saw nothing.

"Here" Came another voice; old and cracked.

Zack looked down and saw the source of the noise. It was an old woman; probably in her early nineties, and so old and bent that she barely came to his chest. She wore tattered gray dress and her ancient, wrinkled face was partly hidden by a thick shawl.

"Do you mind if I come in?" she asked.

Zack gazed at her for a moment, torn. If he let her in, Sephiroth would punish him. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel pity for the old; woman standing there in the rain. He hovered between obeying Sephiroth and his better judgment. Then, he sighed and opened the door wider for her.

"Come in." he said.

"Thank you, young sir." She said gratefully as she stepped inside.

Zack quickly shut the door and latched it. Now that the woman was in the light, her features seemed even more haggard than before. He also noticed that she seemed to be carrying something, but whatever it was, it was wrapped in her shawl.

There was something…strange about her. Her eyes seemed almost too bright for a woman of her age. There was also this air about her that he couldn't quite explain, but it made him slightly nervous, and that's saying something for someone who was once in SOLDIER.

As he was pondering these things, he heard footsteps approaching him. He turned to see Genesis and Angeal striding towards him and the woman.

"What's going on? Zack who is this?" Genesis asked as he came near.

"Oh! Uuuhhh…Genesis. I just-she was out in the storm and I-I had to let her in." he said apologetically.

"If I may speak." the woman said, shuffling a few steps forward.

"Yes ma'am." Angeal said as Genesis and Angela turned their attention to her.

"I was on my way to the nearby village when the storm came and I was forced to seek shelter. I saw this place when the lightning flashed, and managed to make it here. I'm hoping to stay here for the night, for I am weary from traveling." She paused, then continued, "If the master of this house requires payment; I'm sorry to say that I have no money to give him, but I do have with me something that I am willing to forego with."

When she had finished, she bowed her head and said nothing afterwards. The others stared at each other as if asking, "What should we do?", but none of them could think of any solution.

"Could you excuse us for a moment, ma'am?" Genesis asked.

She nodded as they drew to the far corner of the hall.

"What are we going to do?" asked Zack desperately, "We can't just send her back out there."

"We can't just take her in either." Genesis argued.

"What if we hid her-?" Zack began.

"Out of the question." Angeal interrupted, "We might as well sign our own death sentences is Sephiroth discovers this."

"Well, we can't just turn her away-look at her. She's ancient, and she's been out in that storm too." Zack protested, "Not only that." he said leaning in and lowering his voice, "Don't you guys feel as though there's something…weird about her?"

Genesis glanced in the old woman's direction.

"Now that you mention it I _do. _It seems almost as though…" his voice trailed off.

"She's not what she seems?" Angeal finished.

"Yes, that."

He turned to the back others with a hopeless look on his face. "Well, we can't turn her away, but we obviously can't let her stay either. As far as solutions go, I've got nothing. Do you, Zack?"

"No."

"Angeal?"

Angeal stayed silent for a few moments, thinking. Then he spoke, "Why don't we take her to Sephiroth and let him decide what to do with her?"

Genesis snorted. "That's just lovely, we'll just take her into the parlor and say to him; 'Hey Sephiroth, here's an old woman who wants to spend the night here in exchange for whatever she has coming to you. What do you think?'"

"If you have a better idea, I'm sure we'd all like to hear it." Angeal said exasperatingly, "Look, I honestly can't think of anything else, and now it's all we got."

"He's got a point." Zack mentioned gravely.

Genesis stood scowling for a few moments, and then he sighed heavily and ran his hand over his forehead.

"We might as well give it a shot."

They returned to her and explained what they were going to do. She consented to the plan and they led her to the parlor. When they entered, they found an agitated and impatient Sephiroth pacing restlessly in front of the fire.

"What took so long?" he demanded, his harsh gaze boring i them.

Genesis stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Well…er…you see; this-this woman was outside the door. So, she…uh…came in and…"

"Yes, yes, get on with it!" Sephiroth snapped impatiently

Genesis paled slightly, but continued, "She was…she was…wondering if she could spend one night here." he finished quickly and retreated.

Sephiroth's eyes now focused on the old woman, who had shuffled forward and dipped her head in respect. A look of deep disgust came over his face when he saw her humble dress and haggard appearance.

"What the young man said is true sir." she said, "I came here seeking shelter from the storm, and I only wish to stay here for just one night only. I promise I will on my way in the morning. I am sorry to say that I have no money with me, but I do have _this_.", and she withdrew what was beneath her shawl.

It was a bonsai cherry tree, but it wasn't an ordinary one. It was kept under a bell jar, and sat on what seemed like a miniature hill covered in grass so small that one could mistake it for moss. The tree itself was only seven inches high, and the limbs were covered in tiny, but beautiful pink blossoms. The intriguing aspect was that it stirred slightly as though in a breeze; sending miniscule petals floating down.

"This," she said with a note of pride in her voice, "is my most prized possession. It changes according to the seasons. Right now it is at its most beautiful. I will give you this, in exchange for shelter."

Silence filled the room as Genesis, Zack, and Angeal waited with bated breath. Then, a deep chuckle came from Sephiroth, which grew into horrible, mocking laughter that rang throughout the room. He sneered at the woman and her gift.

"What makes you think that I would ever let something as disgusting as you stay in _my _palace? You're a hideous old crone. What makes you think you're welcome here?

As for your _gift, _", he cast a hateful glance at the tree, "What use do I have for it? It's nothing but a tree stuck under a glass; it means nothing to me.

He turned to the others, "Get this thing out of my sight."

"Best beware Sephiroth." she warned, her voice taking on a harsher tone, "Not all things are what they seem. If you value your soul and your life, you would choose your words more carefully, for your fate is knocking on the door."

"ENOUGH!" Sephiroth roared, his green eyes flashing with anger. He addressed the others "Get her out of my sight now!"

Slowly, and with reluctant hearts, they moved forward.

Suddenly, a dazzling white light flashed, bathing the entire room in brilliance. It was so powerful that Sephiroth fell backward on the floor, and the others cowered to their knees with their arms shielding their faces. The light faded somewhat, but it still emitted a powerful radiance. Sephiroth dared to uncover his eyes, and when he saw the source of the light, he blanched.

It was the Goddess, dressed in full armor and in all of her glory. The look of anger and contempt on her beautiful face was terrible to behold, and for the second time in his life, Sephiroth was afraid. He knew of the power she possessed over the Lifestream, and that she was far more powerful than him He trembled as he tried in vain to apologize.

"F-forgive me, please. I didn't realize-"

"Silence!" she commanded, her lips not moving, but rang clearly throughout the room. He seemed to shrink slightly, but didn't dare utter another sound. A terrible silence pervaded the room as she gazed at Sephiroth with an expression of utter hatred. When at last she spoke, it was in a voice filled with disgust.

"I took you from the Lifestream in the hope that you would look upon the actions of your past with remorse and repent. It seems though, that I was mistaken." She paused, and then her tone changed to that of condemnation, "You have not changed, instead you have hardened your heart and immersed your soul in hatred. So you fashion yourself a monster? Well, you have always been the one to cause pain suffering without fear of feeling it yourself. It is time that you know what _true_ pain is!"

No sooner had the words been spoken then a greenish mist appeared and whipped straight for Sephiroth. The mist swirled around him; his eyes grew wide in terror as his head whipped back, exposing his throat. As though in slow-motion, a thin wisp of mist came to his face and flowed between his slightly parted lips into his mouth.

A strange green glow appeared at the base of his throat, and traveled slowly up while the mist trailed from his mouth like a thread of gossamer. It finally reached his mouth, and he reeled when it broke contact with his mouth. At the end of the wisp, sat the glow.

Sephiroth gasped and clutched his throat as though struggling for breath. He felt strange, hollow, empty, and...weak. A feeling of nausea came over him and he felt something drip down his arms and across his face, and he saw black liquid drip onto the carpet. He brought his hand to his face, and when he drew it back he gasped in horror to see something black staining his glove.

No. No. THis couldn't be...not to him.

He pulled his sleeve back and saw that his whole arm was covered in hideous black sores. He looked down at his chest to see it half-covered in the same black sores; all of them oozing a thick, dark liquid.

Geostigma.

He raised his head to see the glow sitting in the Goddesses' palm, and watched in mute shock as her hand closed around it and disappeared.

"W-what have you done?!" he wailed as dread filled him.

"I have taken your soul." she replied, "As well as afflicted you with the same sickness that you used to cause pain to others. Now you are truly a monster; without hope, without pity, and without love. You do not see it now, but I have also deemed that all of your sins be displayed in your mind every moment that you are breathing; all in such detail that it will seem as though you are actually committing them. So you shall be until the end of your days."

The full realization struck him like a thunderbolt.

"NO! No! No, please. Don't do this to me!" he cried out to her.

"Why should I? You deserve no mercy, least of all, from me."

"I beg you!" He pleaded.

"Save your breath." She replied coldly.

Sephiroth's face grew white and a cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. She has absolutely no intention of pardoning him. She was to condemn him to a life more miserable than a beast, but…

"All right, so be It." he spoke in a ghost of a voice, "I see you have no intention of lifting this curse, but if it will be permissible; let me make one request."

Her expression didn't change, but she appeared to be listening. Sephiroth continued.

"I beg you this one favor; that I will not stay this way forever. That…I at least might be given some way to end this. I beg you to grant me this small mercy, and I promise you that I will fulfill the condition to the fullest. On my honor, I swear it." He said these last words with an imploring tone that was unrecognizable in his voice. He bowed his head, waiting fearfully for the Goddesses' reply.

She gazed long and hard at him, considering his words, and finally reached a decision.

"Yes." Sephiroth lifted his head, "I will grant you one mercy."

The bonsai she had offered to him materialized between them, and as he watched, some of the tiny pink blossoms began to darken. First, to a deep, dusted pink, then as an in –between color of pink and red, and finally, to a deep blood-red.

The tree floated towards his outstretched hands. He grabbed it at the bottom and held it before him in a sort of dazed wonderment.

"There are twelve red blooms." the Goddess explained, "Each of these blooms represent one month. As each month passes, a bloom will fade. The remaining ones will show you how much time you have left."

"Left for what?" Sephiroth asked, bewildered.

"You must learn to love another, and in turn earn her love for you by the time the last bloom fades into the tree." She said solemnly.

He gaped at her as though she had asked him to destroy his sword. The task was…absurd, completely insane.

"WH-what? Why-? I-I can't do this! It-it's impossible!" he cried.

She smiled bitterly. "Then perhaps you will stay this way after all." She turned to the Angeal, Genesis, and Zack, who had recovered slightly from the first shock, with a slightly softened expression.

"I deeply regret this, but the three of you must also suffer for his iniquity."

They then felt the same feeling of weakness and nausea, and their bodies were soon splotched with the same black sores.

"The sickness you have will not be as serious as his, but it will be painful all the same. You will remain as you are until he is able to lift the curse." She turned her gaze to Sephiroth for the last time, "You have one year." Then she vanished.

The three shakily rose to their feet, but Sephiroth remained where he was, staring at the space where the Goddess had been. They looked warily at him as though expecting him to do something, but he just stood there as though struck by a sword.

'S-Sephiroth?" Zack asked tentatively

Sephiroth's mouth closed and his face hardened, and he turned to face the others with an almost insane stare.

"Sephiroth-"Genesis began.

"Don't" he said harshly, "I-I want to be alone." He strode past them, still clutching the bonsai, and slammed the door so hard behind him that dust came from the ceiling.

Disgusted and ashamed at his pitiful state, Sephiroth confined himself further to the château, and hardly came out of his room except to roam the dark corridors and to eat at mealtimes.

Then, for reasons unknown to the others and probably to Sephiroth himself, he built a mirror that allowed him to see into the outside world. A world that he could never become a part of. As the months passed, the weight of his task, his Geostigma, and the curse of seeing his past atrocities committed in vivid detail took its toll on him. He fell into the depths of despair and hopelessness, and on more than one occasion took it out on Zack, Genesis, or Angeal. He treated them, if possible, worse than ever, but those occasions were rare, seeing as he spent most of his time shut up in his room with the mirror and the bonsai to tend to. Whenever he _would _give himself to his aimless wanderings, they were usually in their rooms, but they always locked their doors, just in case.

A definite air of gloom settled around the château and its inhabitants. The days slipping by in abysmal dependency and depression. At last, on February 14th, only two blossoms remained on the tiny tree. By this time, Sephiroth had lost almost of his hope that the curse would ever be lifted.

For, he thought, who could, ever love a monster.


	3. Chapter 2

**The Rose of Fieron**

Far from the gloom and despair of the chateau, was a different sort of place. It was February 27th, and the sun was rising over the mountains that lay to the east of the village that was blanketed in snow.

It was small, with most of the houses and cottages built of the same material and the smoking brick chimneys teetering on top of the snow-covered rooftops. The streets were smooth cobblestones with sidewalks adjoining the shops and houses that were painted in simple colors.

A few fields and orchards surrounded it, and a wide dirt road led to a small stretch of plains at the south end. Another road leading out of the north end was paved in the same manner as the village, where a stone bridge arched over a small, clear stream. Beyond the orchards and fields was the forest road that split in two at a certain point. The left road led to a large town where many of the villagers went to sell goods.

The right one, however, led to the abandoned chateau that, and none dared to go there. Logic would say that it was because of the large Guard Hound population, or the fact that it was located in the darkest and most eerie part of the forest. Whatever the reason, they never walked that path nor did they dwell too long in thought on it. They were simple folk, and were content to live they way they did.

From an outsiders point of view it seemed isolated, cut off from the world. The name of this hamlet was Fieron, and in this inconspicuous place, a precious thing lived; the Rose of Fieron.

On a small hill a short distance away from the main village was a cottage. At first glance it looked like the rest of the houses in the village, but leaning up against the front of it were white canvases of various sizes. On the right-hand side of the house was a small, but well-kept garden whose flowers slept beneath the blanket of snow. The only flowers that were growing were on a tall, white rosebush whose pure white flowers made the snow look gray.

The cottage itself was wider than it was tall, had two floors, and a wide door with steps leading up to it. The window pots were filled to the brim with snow and a sprig of meadowsweet was nailed to the door.

Wrapped in a scarf and coat, and sitting in an old wooden chair in front of the house sat an old man somewhere in his late fifties smoking a pipe. The old man's remaining white hair stuck out of his hat, a thick, white mustache roosted on his upper lip, and he had a weathered, wrinkled face with a nose like a tomato and bright, hazel eyes.

"Father! Breakfast is ready!" A voice called from within the cottage.

"Aye, I'm comin' Sylvia." He called back. He rose from his seat, put out his pipe, and strode into the cottage.

The interior sparkled with warmth and cleanliness. Father hung his coat and hat on the coat rack beside the door, and made his way across the slightly threadbare rug into the kitchen. Pots and pans hung on hooks beside the black, potbellied stove. A basin full of washed vegetables stood in front of the window. A scrubbed table set with three chairs and a plate of sizzling sausages and bacon with fried eggs. Opposite of the plate sat a bowl of raspberries and cream.

Tending to the stove stood an unearthly beautiful young woman with striking blue eyes and long blue hair. Father smiled as he approached her.

"Lookin' fair and lovely as usual Sylvia."

"And I see that you are as fit as usual." she in a soft musical voice, and kissed him on both cheeks.

"Aye, sometimes I think you treat me too well." Father said when he saw the plate of food.

Sylvia laughed as they sat down to eat. "Did you see anything today Father?" she inquired.

"Nothin' yet m'dear." He sighed, "It seems the mountains won't be bringing me anythin' soon"

"Well, better luck next time." She consoled.

Father was an artist, and a very good one at that, but lately he seemed to be suffering from another case of artist's block. He was almost finished with his latest painting which he planned to sell (along with others), at the fair the day after tomorrow. He was already planning for his next one, but he couldn't seem to find any inspiration. So every morning he would sit in his chair smoking his pipe, and stare at the mountains to find some source of inspiration.

The only thing he seemed to be getting though was a redder nose.

"Ye gong to town today Sylvia?" Father asked.

"Yes, I've written everything we need down."

"And did ye…"

"Yes, I wrote down the paints you needed as well." She smiled.

Father laughed, "You know me too well lass. By the way…" he added as he finished, "Where's Cait?"

As if on cue, a large black and white cat streaked into the room. It looked like any ordinary cat…except it stood on its hind legs. It also wore a gold crown on its head and a blue scarf around its neck.

"Mornin' Sylvia! Father!" Cait Sith said as he sat at down at the table.

"Good morning, Cait. Did you have breakfast yet?" Sylvia asked.

He turned red.

"No."

"Have the rest of mine then. There's still plenty left." She pushed the bowl towards him. Cait smiled and began to devour what was left of her breakfast.

When they had finished and the dishes were washed and left to dry, Sylvia made her way to the entrance and took a piece of paper from the basket by the coat rack. After examining it for a few moments, she pulled a white, fur mantle from the coat rack, and picked up the basket. After everything was in order, she went to find Father and found him reading a book from one of the shelves in the kitchen.

"I'm going now Father." She said, catching his attention.

He nodded. "I need ye back by three today, so don't be gone too long lass."

"Yeas, I promise Father."

"On your way then" He said smiling.

Sylvia had returned to the entrance, and had barley put her hand on the doorknob when out of nowhere Cait Sith rushed up to her.

"Can I go with ye, Sylvia?" He asked eagerly.

She shook her head. "No Cait. I need you to stay and help Father."

"But-"

"No 'buts'" she said more firmly.

His whiskers drooped sadly.

"Yes Sylvia."

She considered him for a moment, and then spoke. "I'll tell you what, if I have enough money left over I might get you something special, alright?"

His face lit up like a light bulb. "Thank you, Sylvia. I'll do what needs doin' round here." He bowed slightly and hurried off into the house.

Sylvia gazed after him, then smiled and shook her head amusingly. Even though she had had Cait for years, she still found this little creature highly amusing. Without further delay, she opened the door and stepped out into the weak winter morning.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Into Town**

Sylvia closed the door behind her. She breathed in the crisp winter air and started down the road, humming as she went. As she approached the main village, she recalled that it wasn't long ago when she had first set foot into the village after a long journey.

Then again, she smiled, five years goes by faster than one may think. Not for her though, for her the years came one after the other in the same endless cycle that was bound to never change. That was why she had come here with nothing but Cait by her side and a bag hanging from her shoulder. When the villagers first saw her, they didn't know what to think of her. After all, their world was cut off from the rest, and it was extremely rare that people ever came that way. As time went on though, they became accustomed to her, and due to her unearthly beauty and kind manner was known as the Rose of Fieron. That title wasn't for show though, for she possessed a beauty so singular and unearthly that no mortal woman could possibly compare to her.

Her hair was past shoulder length, and bright sky blue with two thin bangs that framed her face. Her eyes were of the brightest and most beautiful shade of blue that seemed to see much more than any sage. Her nose was straight, her lips full and red as a rose in full bloom; her skin was fair and smooth, without flaw or blemish, and the slim, delicate figure of a dancer. Her clothing consisted of a button-up, corset-like shirt with off-the-shoulder sleeves; a white, ruffle skirt that came just above her knees, and sandal-like, high-heeled shoes with thick soles and soft leather sides held together by thongs. The only other things she wore was the fur mantle around her shoulders and white ribbons on each wrist.

She finally reached the village just as the people were beginning to flock to the different shops, and the local baker and milkman were making their daily rounds

"Good morning Sylvia!" a merry voice called out as the milkman, Terrance, appeared with his milk-cart.

"Good morning, Terrance. How are you feeling?" She replied.

"Absolutely fine, and by the way I never got the chance to thank you for nursing my little Qorra back to health."

"Oh, Terrance the poor dear only had a bit of stomach trouble, that's all." Sylvia smiled.

"Nonetheless, I'm very grateful for you tending to her and bringing her back to her usual health."

"So," he said clapping his hands together, "What all do you need from me?"

"Oh, yes. I need…" She pulled out the list, "Two quarts, please".

"Coming right up." He said as he went into his cart and filled the bottles.

"There you are, just as you asked." He said as he placed them into her basket.

"Thank you, Terrance." She said.

After paying him and exchanging good-byes, she made her way to the book shop. When she entered, she was greeted by a wizened old man with thick glasses and a shock of white hair.

"Good morning to you, Miss Sylvia." Said the man in a cracked voice as he bowed as low as his rheumatism permitted.

"Good morning Harris, I came to return the book I borrowed." She said as she pulled out a book with a pale green cover, "Oh…and before I forget." She pulled out an opaque blue bottle and gave it to him.

He smiled, showing a few missing teeth, "Oh my dear you are an angel for giving me this. Thank you." He took the bottle and put it into his apron pocket, and then he took the book and shuffled to reshelf it.

"So did you enjoy it my dear?"

"Oh, I simply couldn't put it down." Sylvia said in a voice of breathy excitement.

Harris chuckled, "Well are you taking anything with you in exchange?" He asked.

She strode over to the shelves on the opposite wall, and climbed a few steps up the ladder attached to the shelf on wheels.

"Hmmmmm…how about…" She murmured as she ran her fingers along the books, "This one." She pulled out a book with a dark blue cover and descended the ladder.

"_That one_?" Harris asked as he held the book in front of him, "But you've read it over a thousand times!"

"I know, but I can't stop reading it. A hero, fallen from grace…a princess who saves him from destruction…and when he realizes the meaning of true love, he rises again." A faraway look came into her eyes, and she seemed to be lost in her own world."

Harris laughed, "Well Miss Sylvia, if you love it so much, then you can keep it."

A bewildered expression came onto her face, "But, Harris-"She began.

"No, no Miss." He said seriously as he placed the book in her hands, "It's the least I can do to thank you for helping me with my rheumatism." He patted his pocket where the bottle sat.

Sylvia stared at him in disbelief, then she smiled, "Thank you, Harris."

She came out of the store and saw a large group of young men practically tripping over each other to make room for her. She shook her head and sighed; they had obviously looked into the shop window in order to get a glimpse of her and now we're doing a poor job of trying to act nonchalant about it. Almost all of the young men in the village were smitten with her and would try their best to catch a glance of her whenever she went to town.

Checking her list, she then went to the apocrathy and purchased elder, Echinacea, and mint for the colds, sore throats, and flu's that broke out among the children and some of the adults at this time of year. With this winter being particularly cold, there were bound to be a great many house calls, and she needed to be prepared. After purchasing the supplies needed for dinner, and Father's requested paints, Sylvia once more found herself in the town center. She checked the time from the clock tower and saw that it was another forty-five minutes till three. Having not eaten lunch, she went to the fruit sellers stall, the bakery, and the sweet shop. After assembling her lunch, she made her way through the growing crowd until she reached the stone bridge.

She sighed with relief, and sat down on the side of the bridge. As she began to eat, she gazed down at the half-frozen water that trickled and sparkled in the late afternoon light. This was her favorite place to go, where she could be at peace and watch the workings of nature. That's what I'm supposed to do, she though as she took another bite of her apple, I'm only supposed to watch. I'm not supposed to get involved. Strange, it seemed that while the Planet almost fell apart, the people here were ignorant of the workings of the outside world. They just went about their daily lives as though the entire world was not just about to end. The way things were here, they probably would never change, and she hoped that they never would. It should remain peaceful; she thought as she started on her bread, the people here should remain ignorant, for in their ignorance was bliss.

As she was contemplating this, something happened that forced her jolted her thoughts away from her contemplations.

While earlier the sun had been shining brightly on the late winter snow, it seemed to become dim. There had not a breeze all day, but a strange wind seemed to stir the bushes and the tops of the trees. The air, once pleasant and fresh, now seemed to grow dense, heavy and charged with tension.

Sylvia snapped to attention at once, her face a look of alert. She listened carefully, but heard nothing, then a sound made its way to her. At first it was barely distinguishable and seemed to blend with the wind, but it increased in volume and in intensity. A tangle of whispers was barely audible above the wind.

"Fial …"

"Fial meths gao centa..."

"Fial meths goa centa…"

"Listen…listen, with your heart."

"What do wish to tell me?" she asked as the whispers became louder.

"Sylvia…Sylvia…"

"Save…go to…"

"Heal the…"

"Preserve…"

"Rescue…him."

"Rescue who?" she inquired, but the whispers were already beginning to fade, and then the world suddenly reverted back into its original state. The air was pleasant, no breeze stirred, and the sun shone as brightly as ever. Sylvia sat there in deep thought, she knew what the voices were, and knew what had happened. The Ancients had spoken once more to her, but what were they trying to tell her? She thought about the words they had spoken. There was someplace she needed to go…someone they wanted her to save. Who, though?

So deep in thought was she that she didn't notice a tall, arrogantly handsome man with blonde hair come up to her, and it came as a surprise when she heard a proud, baritone voice call out behind her: "Well, well, you're here rather late eh, Sylvia?"

She whirled around and had to refrain from sighing in frustration when she saw who it was. "Hello, Florence." She greeted him.

"I've been all over town looking for you, but it seemed you've already done your shopping. Then I think to myself…'Well, she's not here then she must be at the bridge.' So I come, and here you are." He said with an air of annoying pride.

"Well good for you." Sylvia responded.

Florence was considered the handsomest man in Fireron as well as a skilled hunter. Many people thought that he would be the one to win Sylvia's heart, but she saw beyond his façade, and knew that he was nothing but an arrogant troublemaker.

"So, Sylvia." he said as he put his arm around her, "I was wondering if maybe you would like to go down to the pub with me and share a drink."

"That's very considerate of you Florence." She said slipping out from under his arm, "But it's almost three and Father said that he needed me back by then."

"Oh, such a dutiful girl are you?" He laughed.

"At least I keep my promises." She said as she picked the marzipan cake she had saved. Florence smiled, showing his painfully white teeth. "Of course you do. Oh," He noticed the marzipan, "Marzipan, thank you." He took the marzipan from her hands and began to devour it with gusto. Sylvia had to do her best to not roll her eyes in frustration.

"But-"He continued, his mouth full of marzipan. "I don't understand why a beautiful girl like you would want to spend so much time with an old geezer who does nothing but paint all day. I mean," He said, taking another bite. "Everyone in town is talking about it."

"About what?" She said dryly.

"That a beautiful girl like you still hasn't married yet. Don't you find that a little strange?"

Just then the clock struck the hour, and Sylvia felt a rush of relief that she had a reason to get away from Florence. She was also slightly startled when she realized how late she had been out.

"I'm sorry Florence, but I have to go." She snatched the remaining marzipan from him, picked up her basket, and straightened her mantle. "Father said he wanted me back by three." She started off, but Florence blocked her.

"Oh, Sylvia, are you sure you have go back so soon?"He said in what consisted of his version of a seductive voice.

"Now Florence, I would love to discuss this further, but-"She sidestepped him gracefully. "I simply must get back, good-bye." He opened his mouth to reply, but she was already hurrying across the bridge and through the town.

As she rushed through the throng, she couldn't help but think about what had happened before Florence had come, and again questions tumbled in her mind. Where did the Ancients want her to go? Whom did they want her to save?

These persisted until she reached the path to the cottage and she managed to shake off these nagging thoughts. Whatever would happen would happen, she thought, but dwelling on them wouldn't make it any better. Without any further thoughts on the incident, she went up the steps and entered the warm comfort of the cottage.


	5. Chapter 4

Sylvia had barely closed the door when a familiar black-and-white streak zipped into the entry.

"Slyviaaaaaaaa!" Cait Sith cried flinging himself into her arms; startling her and causing the basket to fall from her hands.

"Cait!" She gasped catching hold of him, "My goodness, you gave me a scare."

His ears twitched mischievously.

"Sorry, I was anxious. What kept you?"

"I was…held up." She said setting him down.

"By what?"

"By _who _would be a more correct phrase." She corrected as she hung her mantle carefully on the coat rack.

"By who then?" He pressed.

Sylvia smiled. Here we go again…

"A man."

"What man?"

"A man who happens to be the son of the richest landowner in town, as well as the handsomest man in all of Ferion."

Now he was catching on. His usual bright smile turned into a scowl.

"Ah…did he have blonde hair?"

"Yes"

"Was he rude and arrogant?"

"Yes."

"Was it that toe rag, Florence?"

"Yes, and don't call him that Cait." Sylvia replied as she picked up her basket.

"Well he is!" He protested, "That good-for-nuthin' rouge has no idea how to treat a lass like you, and he bullies people who are weaker than him just 'cause he can!"

"I know Cait." She affirmed, now checking the contents of the basket.

"Oh, you should've let me come with you. I would've given him a piece of my mind that's what I would've given him." He began to jump up and down and throw punches at an imaginary Florence. Sylvia bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"I'll give him a bit o' this…and this…and-wah!"

In the middle of a jump Cait Sith had forgotten where he was and tripped over the umbrella stand.

Sylvia laughed, unable to contain herself when he took the stand with him.

"Are you alright?" She asked him through her remaining giggles.

His whiskers twitched embarrassingly, but he managed to get to his feet without trouble.

"I-I'm fine, but perhaps I shoulda looked where I was goin'." He said sheepishly.

"Perhaps…" She chuckled.

"Oh!" He ran up to her, a look of excited eagerness on his face, "Did ya bring me anythin' Sylvia?"

"I did in fact." She pulled out a box full of the strawberry tarts that Cait Sith was fond of.

He grinned like a Cheshire cat as he took the box from her.

"Thanks Sylvia." He said joyfully, and popped a whole tart into his mouth.

"Don't eat them all at once now." She warned as he stuffed another into his mouth.

Footsteps moved around upstairs, and presently Father came down the stairs wearing a paint-stained apron and a few brushes clenched in his hand.

"What was that noise?" He inquired.

"Cait tripped over the umbrella stand." Sylvia said smiling.

Father chortled, and then turned to Sylvia.

"I'm glad your back Sylvia, you came just in time."

"Thank you Father, and here you are." She handed him the paints.

"Thank you lass." He said gratefully.

"Is it almost finished, Father?" She asked eagerly.

He nodded.

"Aye, almost. Just a few more touches on the background and your expression, then we'll be finished." He turned back to the steps. "When you're finished puttin' away, come up." And he climbed back up.

After doing so, Sylvia ascended the steps and emerged into a small hallway with three doors and lit by the light coming in from the windows. She stepped over to the second door on the left and walked in. She paused for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of paint, wet cloth and fresh canvas skins.

Even more canvases lined this room, but they had been moved to the part furthest from the window. Paint shelves hung on the walls, and their contents consisted mainly of oils, acrylics, gouache, and some watercolor. Next to the window sat a small wooden table with a vase of white roses, and this was part of the model that Father was using for the painting.

This was his "work room", where all of his artistic effort was carried out. The man himself sat several feet away from the table in front of a large canvas with his easel in hand and hid brush moving in precise strokes.

Sylvia watched him, admiring how much care he took with his work. He finished what he was doing and looked up.

Ah, good timin' lass." He said noticing her in the doorway. "Just barely finished the background, now all we need is a tad bit more detail on the light and you're expression. Go on." He inclined his head to the table.

She obeyed and settled into place: Stand behind the table; left hand touching the roses; right hand on the windowsill; eyes looking out the window, and head tilted slightly to the right.

Father began working right away, occasionally glancing at her to help add to the details.

"So, "He began, wanting to break the silence. "How was town?"

"I got a new book." Sylvia replied, not moving from her place, "And I got the herbs I'll need for the colds and flu's"

"Aye, there's bound to be much o' that with this winter being so cold" He replied. "Tilt your head a little more to the light, please. Much better. Did anythin' interestin' happen?" He asked with his face behind the canvas.

"I ran into Florence at the bridge." She sighed.

"Why don't ye ever talk to him? He's a good-lookin' lad." He commented.

"Oh, yes, he's handsome." She said with a slight edge of sarcasm, "He's also rude, obnoxious, conceited, and arrogant." She sighed again, this time in frustration, "I'll tolerate him, but I refuse to associate with that brute. I don't care how handsome he is."

"Settle down, lass; T'was only a suggestion." He reassured.

The memory of the bridge though had caused the questions she had buried to resurface, and once again she recalled her experience.

It was strange, usually the Ancients only told her of events that were already happening…or were yet to come. Rarely have they told her to actually _do _something.

"_This is certainly odd." _She thought, _"But...If the Ancients are telling me this then it must be of great importance." _The words they had spoken wove through her mind

"_**Sylvia…Save…Go to…rescue…him." **_So they needed her to save "him", but who exactly was this "him"? Why did he need to be saved? She wrinkled her brow, trying to find the answers to these questions.

"Sylvia!"

Father's voice snapper her back to reality and she turned to him with a slightly startled expression.

"Lass, is something the mat-"He began, but stopped as he began to scrutinize her expression. "Oh!" he exclaimed as his face became aglow with excitement.

"Keep that expression! Keep that expression! Turn to the window for me lass!"

Sylvia did so as Father rapidly began applying paint to the canvas, taking only a few quick glances at her.

"There!" He cried out in triumph, "Ye can move now lass; it's finished."

"Oh, is it? I can't wait to see what it looks like."

"Well I donna know why you're still standin' there my pretty, come over and have a look." He laughed.

She hurried over to where he stood as he admired his work.

"Ah, yes…this is a fine work indeed." He murmured, nodding his approval.

The atmosphere in the painting was warm and filled with golden sunlight that streamed in through the windows. The table where the painted version of Sylvia stood had a few scattered rose petals lying near the vase, and the roses gleamed softly in the light. The painted Sylvia stood just as the real Sylvia had, except her expression was an alluring mix of surprise and curiosity.

"Oh Father, it's beautiful!" She exclaimed joyfully.

"You think so?" he asked.

"Of course, it's absolutely lovely." She said embracing him. "You'll definitely win first place at the fair with this."

"I believe it might lass, and all thanks to you." He said returning the embrace.

"Don't be silly, you were the one who painted it."

Father held her at arm's length and shook his head.

"Aye, If it wasna for you there would be no painting." He took of his apron and rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

"It'll need a few more minutes to dry, and while we're waitin' let's get the cart loaded and Lekka hitched so I can get to the fair."

"First though," Sylvia reminded, "Let's have some dinner, you must be hungry after sitting here all day painting."

Father's stomach issued a loud growl.

"Sounds like a good idea."

* * *

After dinner was eaten the cart was loaded with all the finished paintings and the golden chocobo, Lekka, was hitched. Sylvia packed Father's meal below the seat of the cart and the man himself sat dressed in his cloak, scarf, and hat while another blanket was thrown across his knees by Sylvia.

"Now Father, please be careful." She said seriously making a final check on everything.

"I'll be fine, Sylvia. Ye donna need to worry." He reassured her.

"Cait!" Sylvia called.

"Ready!" He replied running over to her.

"Up you go." She pulled him up onto the seat next to Father.

"Now Cait, remember what I told you." She instructed him, "No playing tricks, no wild shenanigans and stay by Father. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sylvia." Cait Sith saluted. Sylvia gave him a small smile before turning her attention to Father.

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" She asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Yes, I've made the journey hundreds of times my dear, and I've always come back fine." He replied teasingly, but he smiled warmly at her. "There's no need for ya to worry, lass."

She returned a smile and nodded.

"Alright then, off you go."

Father snapped the reigns and Lekka started forward in a brisk trot.

"I'll be back in a few days, lass! Good-bye!"

"Good-bye, Father! Good luck at the fair!"

Sylvia watched the cart travel down the road, through the town, over the bridge, and past the fields until it was only a small dot in the distance.

She didn't go back inside until the dot disappeared from her sight.

* * *

**Well, that was sweet and full of fluff. Sorry this took so long to upload; school stuff (blegh). Anyway, thanks for all the views and favs! I'm so glad that you guys like it. ****I know your probably getting bored with all this domestic stuff, but don't worry, the next chapter will be soooo much better I promise. The next chapter is where the excitement begins…but until then, please be patient. In case you're wondering, I'm going for a sort of Beauty and the Beast thing and you know how that goes. Stick around for the next chapter: "A Wrong Turn".**


	6. Chapter 5

**Hello guys! Sorry about the wait, but I had some CRAZY stuff going on in school and at home…yeah that kind of stuff, and a SERIOUS case of writer's block. : P. I would just like to inform you that this is Part 1 of Heroes Redemption, and that more will follow in this little "series", so don't worry, there will be more action later on, so hold tight. (Bty, thanks for all of the reviews and for those who are following this, you are amazing!****) I know you've all been dying for "the good stuff", and I never break a promise, so here it is; Chapter 5! This is the chapter where Angeal, Genesis, Zack, and last but not least: Sephiroth make their appearance! Comments and reviews are welcome! Enjoy!**

Father had already traveled past the familiar scenery and it was beginning to grow dark when he and Cait Sith reached the fork in the forest road. They stopped to light the lanterns, and when they had finished Father climbed back into his seat and was about to move forward when he stopped himself.

Cait Sith looked at the old man with concern.

"Somethin' wrong Father?"

The old man squinted to the two paths the scratched his head in confusion.

"I-I canna seem to remember the way there."

"Wha' ?!" Cait Sith cried out in shock, "But surely you remember?"

"Well, me memory isn't like it used to be, and I hardly go down to the village as o' late." He replied defensively.

"Oh dear…" Cait Sith moaned, covering his ears.

"Stop your moanin' and let me think for a moment."

Father wracked his brain as he examined each road carefully. The left one was worn, smooth, clear of vegetation, and seemed the better choice than the right one, which was so covered in half-melted snow and dead growth that it was barely distinguishable. He looked back and forth between them as he tried to remember the proper way to the town. He glanced at the left road and it seemed right, but he wasn't so sure. He turned to the right road. This one was certainly in rough shape, and by the looks of it, had not been traveled on for years.

Perhaps…Father thought wrinkling his brow, perhaps this was a…shortcut. Yes, now that he thought about it he did recall a sort of shortcut running through the forest. Satisfied at his conclusion, he took the reins and directed Lekka to the left, but Lekka didn't share the same intentions and attempted to go the opposite direction.

"No, no Lekka, this way." Father said as he tried to correct her. The golden chocobo chirped and ruffled her feathers, trying to resist the pull of the reins, but Father pulled even harder until with a sharp tug, she finally relented.

Cait Sith raised his head and his face became a mask of horror when he saw what road they were taking.

"F-Father, have you gone mad?!"

"What?"

"Where do ya think you're taking us?!"

Father paled, "I-It's a shortcut, Cait." He replied in a faltering voice.

They had every reason to be afraid, for even with the lanterns on the darkness pressed around them and it made the trees seem twisted and strange. What was worse, a heavy mist had begun to form, making it almost impossible to see anything.

The golden chocobo shook her wings in agitation, and attempted to turn back, and Father had some difficulty forcing her back onto the road.

"Come on, girl." He grunted as he tried to turn her around again.

Then a low, long howl cut through the trees, making the hairs on Father's neck stand up. It came again, louder this time, and it was joined by others until the whole forest rang with their cries.

"Turn around Father." Cait Sith gibbered, clinging to him, "I donna want to know what tha' was."

"Y-Yes…we better…" He stammered, his face turning white. A third round of howling made the rest of the words die in his throat.

It was getting closer.

Lekka's shrieked and without warning plunged forward through the trees.

Cait Sith and Father were nearly thrown from their seats as the golden chocobo thundered through the darkness.

"Lekka! Lekka! Whoa! STOP! "Father, clinging to the reigns, but it was no use. The chocobo was too frightened to listen to her master and continued to rush madly through the darkness.

"Le-WAAAAAHHHH!"

Cait Sith tried to grab the reigns, but at that moment the cart was driven over a large rock, nearly unseating Father. Cait Sith wasn't so lucky, and was thrown forward onto the galloping chocobo, where he clung desperately to keep from being bucked off.

They burst out of the trees, and to Father's horror, heading straight for the edge of a cliff.

"Whooooaaaaaa!"

With less than a second to act, he wrapped the reigns around his hands and pulled back with all his strength.

Lekka finally obeyed, and slid to a halt right at the very edge of the cliff, sending some small stones tumbling down into the darkness.

"Oh…oh, dear." Cait Sith whimpered, trembling.

"Whoa, Lekka, back up, back up." Father said shakily, coaxing the golden chocobo back.

Lekka flapped her wings and shook her head restlessly; when she was finally a safe distance away, she stood shivering in fear.

Father released the reigns and wiped the sweat that had formed on his brow.

"Tha' was a close one." He murmured. He dismounted from the cart and approached the golden chocobo to soothe her.

He had barely approached her side when the howling that had frightened her earlier came again.

It was several yards away from them.

Lekka threw back her head and let out a full-throated shriek of terror.

"Whoa! Whoa! Lekka!" Father shouted as he made a grab for the reigns, but Lekka's beating wing struck him in the head and he fell to the ground with a painful grunt.

The golden chocobo let out another shriek and without a moment's hesitation, turned and ran swiftly back into the forest with Cait Sith clinging to her neck for dear life.

Father got up and looked around for any sign of them, but to no avail.

"Lekka…Cait." He whispered, shivering with cold and fear.

His blood ran cold when he heard a deep growl behind him. He turned around and gasped when he saw several pairs of yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. The darkness shifted and moved, forming shapes that had large, lean, sinewy bodies and a tentacle like a scorpion's tail whipping between their shoulders.

Guard Hounds.

He stood frozen in fear for only a split second, and then he ran blindly through the darkness with the Hounds in hot pursuit. He had no clue where he was going; all that was on his terrified mind was to escape his pursuers.

"Ooff!"

He tripped, and rolled down a small rise in the ground. He groaned as he lifted himself up painfully and shook his head to clear the dizziness. His vision cleared and he raised his head.

He gasped when he saw a large, sturdy, wrought iron gate. Beyond it was a stone bridge, and he could make out the shape of a large chateau silhouetted in the darkness. He was about to turn back when he heard snarling and growling approaching behind him.

He turned back to the dreaded building.

It was this or the Hounds…

Half-mad with terror, he flung himself on the gate and rattled the bars.

"Let me in! Let me in!" He shouted desperately, and let out a cry of shock when they swung open, and he fell face first onto the ground.

He rolled onto his back to see the Guard Hounds almost to the gate, and in less than a second, he kicked them shut and the Hounds slammed into the bars. He withdrew his foot, but one of the Hounds clamped its jaws around it and tried to draw him back. He wrenched himself free and scrambled to his feet, panting.

He turned towards the chateau as a cold mixture of rain and snow began to fall. Already getting soaked, he ran up to the dark, solid doors and knocked. To his surprise, the door swung open at his touch, and he entered hastily but with caution as the door swung shut behind him. Dripping onto the plush carpet and shivering with cold, he tried to discern his surroundings, but in the dim light there was very little to see save for a few buttresses and a grand staircase that branched off into two others.

"Hello?" He whispered, his voice echoing through the hall.

"Hello?" He asked again, louder this time.

"I was travelin' through the forest when I was chased be Guard Hounds. I-I found myself here, and-and I was wonderin' if I could spend the night?"

His words didn't go unheard; hidden in the shadows stood two men who had observed the old man as he came in.

"He doesn't seem like a threat." The first commented.

"I know what you're thinking Angeal. Don't do it." The other man hissed.

"But Genesis, he's lost."

"You think that _he _will care? If you know what's good for you, you keep your mouth shut!"

"Come on Genesis, have a heart." The first man implored.

The other man clamped his hand over his friend's mouth.

"Not another word Angeal. _Not another word_." He said through clenched teeth.

The first man had no intention of doing so. He slipped a weak Fire materia into his hand, put it over his friend's hand that was on his mouth, and cast the spell.

The other man yelled in pain, and quickly removed his singed hand.

"Of course you can, sir." The first man said as his friend nursed his hand.

"Who-who said that?" Father asked, glancing around in fear.

"Oh, sorry, you can't see us. Hold on."

A flash of light startled Father, but it dimmed to the soft glow of a candle that illuminated the person standing in front of him.

He was a tall, muscular man with dark hair and bright, sky-blue eyes. He was dressed in some sort of uniform and on his back was an enormous sword that glinted in the light of the candelabra he was holding.

"Who-who are you?" Father stuttered, eyeing the large weapon.

"Angeal, and don't worry; I'm not going to harm you." The man replied, taking note of Father's gaze.

"That's enough!"

The second man joined Angeal. Like the latter, he was tall and blue-eyed, but lacked the muscular build of the other man. His hair was red, and fell attractively over his face. His coat was of the same color.

Angeal rolled his eyes.

"This is Genesis, don't listen to him."

Genesis glared at Angeal, then at Father.

"Sir, I suggest you leave at once." He said sharply.

"I-I'm sorry. I was jus- I was jus- I ah-ah-AH-CHOO!" Father sneezed so forcefully that Genesis stepped back to avoid the spittle that flew from his mouth and nose. He sniffed and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt as a shudder passed through him. Angeal looked at the old man with concern.

"You must be freezing. Come with me, and you can warm yourself in the parlor."

He ushered the old man towards a door at the far right of the hall with Genesis at their heels.

"Angeal, you stop and-OW!" The redhead collided into a buttress and fell unceremoniously on his rear end.

Angeal and Father entered a large, comfortable room brightly lit by the fire burning in the grate. Angeal sat Father down in the plush armchair and threw a blanket over him.

"I'll have Zack fetch you something to drink. Meanwhile, you sit here and get warm."

"Thank you, er…"

"Angeal."

"Angeal, thank you lad." Father sighed, settling himself into the armchair.

Angeal crossed over to the fireplace to add another log to the fire. In the light, Father noticed the stained bandages wrapped around bot of his arms, his forehead, and a patch covered part of his right cheek.

"What in blazes happened to ye, lad?" He asked in a worried tone.

The younger man's face became tense, and his hand moved automatically to the patch on his cheek.

The old man rebuked himself mentally, and attempted to apologize.

"I'm sorry lad, I dina mean to ask that."

"No, no, it's alright." Angeal replied, shaking his head. He stood up, crossed over to the sofa and prodded the lump that lay there.

""Zack! Wake up!"

"Huuunngggg…what is it? Just let me sleep Angeal." The lump groaned.

"Do you want me to pour a bucket of ice water on your head?"

"Okay! Okay! I'm up! What do you want?!" The lump replied angrily as he stood up.

Like Angeal, this man also had dark hair and blue eyes; he even wore the same clothing as the other man. Except he was younger, and he seemed to radiate energy.

'Get this man something hot to drink, Zack." Angeal said, addressing him.

Zack turned to Father, and the old man saw that he too wore the same bandages, but part of them covered his left eye.

When he saw the old man, his eyes widened and he turned to Angela in disbelief.

"Angeal, what are you thinking?" He asked somewhat fearfully. "Do you know what'll happen if he finds out."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"But-"

"Zack, don't worry. Now do as I said and go get this man a drink."

The younger man opened and closed his mouth in a futile attempt to reply, but a look from Angeal was enough to silence him. He sighed heavily, and moved towards the door.

Before he reached it though, it burst open and Genesis strode in with an expression that made Zack back away a few steps.

The redhead turned to Father, and the old man saw the same bandages wrapped around his forehead and covering his right eye.

"Good gracious." The old man thought, "What's happened to these people?" He began to feel uneasy at what was taking place, but he held his tongue and listened closely to the three men.

Without a word to him, the redhead made a beeline for Angeal and Zack.

"Angeal, he needs to go. _Now_"

"Genesis-"

"He knows."

"What?!"

Genesis lowered his voice, so Father had to strain his ears to hear what was said.

"After I got up I had this feeling…like someone was watching me. I looked around, but didn't see anything, then I looked up, and he was there; right at the top of the stairs!"

Both of the dark-haired men blanched, and Father felt a ball of fear form in his stomach.

"Wha-what are we going to do?!" Zack asked in hushed tones.

"What I suggested from the start! We need to get him out of here before-"

The redhead's words were lost as the door flew open again with an almighty crash that caused all three men to retreat to the corner, and the force from the violent motion blew the fire out completely.

Father sat trembling in the darkness, his fear revived to an all-new level. A deadly silence pervaded the room, and though the old man couldn't see anything he could sense that someone or something was in the room. It was an overwhelming, powerful, and dark presence, as though death itself had entered the room.

The silence became almost unbearable, and when it reached a pitch that would have maddened the old man, a voice spoke; a voice that made his blood run cold and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Who is here? Show yourself now, don't you dare try to hide."

Father clutched the blanket around him like a shield and closed his eyes, praying to the Goddess that whatever was in the room would not come towards him.

He gasped as he was suddenly lifted out of the chair, and the next thing he knew, he was dangling a few feet above the ground. His eyes flew open, and what he saw almost made him faint.

Two luminous green eyes with cat-like pupils were glaring at him. The coldness and malice that seethed within them was so great was so great that they didn't even seem remotely human.

"You are very foolish to come here, old man." The voice snarled, "And my friends were actually had the nerve to let you in." The eyes flicked towards the corner, where three shapes could be seen shrinking in fear.

Father was so terrified that he couldn't even scream, he simply hung there, praying that whatever monster he was facing wouldn't kill him.

"Speak, human!" the creature snapped, shaking him roughly, "Why did you came here? Answer me! My patience is already running thin."

"I-I-I-was-"He gasped.

The eyes narrowed, and the grip around his arms tightened painfully.

"You've come here to stare at the monster, haven't you?", the monster hissed, "Maybe to have a good laugh and leave, am I correct?"

The creature laughed coldly.

"N-no! I was only-"

"Silence!"

Father obeyed, fearful of making this monster even more enraged.

The green-eyed monster remained silent, as though contemplating his fate.

"I should kill you for this.", the creature mused, then chuckled, "but you should be thankful, human. I'm not going to kill you. At least…" ,Father caught a glimpse of pearly white teeth, "Not yet."

The old man was thrown to the ground and the grip shifted to the back of his cloak.

"I'll deal with you three later." The monster said to the three man, and began to drag his prisoner out of the room.

The whole time, Father had hardly moved out of fear. As he was being dragged out though, he remembered Sylvia, and how she would be expecting him back, but he would never come back. This thought made him come to life, and he began to struggle with his captor.

The latter did not approve of this and attempted to subdue the old man, but he struggled even more fiercely.

"Let me go you cretin!" He shouted.

"Stop resisting or it will not end well for you!" His captor warned through clenched teeth.

Father was in no mood to listen, nor did he care what was said. All that he was concentrated on was escaping this man, creature, whatever it was!

His captor was losing patience and he lifted the old man up to throw him over his shoulder.

Father saw his chance and using all of his strength, aimed a kick at the monster's side.

The monster gasped in surprise and pain, and released his hold on the old man. Father scrambled to his feet and saw his captor double over, gasping and coughing in pain. He turned around and could make out the faint outline of the doors where he had entered. He glanced back at his prostrate captor then at the doors.

It was now or never.

He bolted to the doors at the same time that he heard an enraged curse explode behind him and swiftly approaching footsteps closing in on him.

Not daring to look back, Father ran faster than he had ever ran in his life. Hope sprang in his chest wen he reached the doors, but he had no sooner touched the latch when a fist collided into his head. Blinding, throbbing pain seared through his head, and he collapsed to the ground as darkness closed in on him.

Before he passed out, he saw a gloved hand reach towards him, a half-bandaged face surrounded by silver hair, and the flashing, cold green eyes with cat-like pupils.


	7. Chapter 6

**Hello! It's me again. Sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter, but life got in the way: Work, summer, friends, yeah…that stuff. I will be happy to tell you that I will be uploading chapter seven in about a week or less, so stay tuned! Thanks for all who are reading this, it really helps me out. So without further ado…please read, comment and subscribe! Thanks **

Sylvia sat at the table with a pile of dried herbs and seeds in front of her; frowning in concentration as she separated them into separate piles. She gazed out of the window from time to time, but forced herself to turn away and resume what she was doing. She sighed when she caught herself looking out of the window for what seemed like the hundredth time, and set the bundle of herbs she was clutching back on the tabletop.

It had only been two days since Father had gone, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. It was to be expected from her to worry about his safety, but it was becoming quite a nuisance lately.

She sighed exasperatingly.

Speaking of nuisances; Florence had been making many surprise visits to her home, and he had also tried to make her go to the pub with him. Thankfully, she always managed to shake him off and not have to be bothered by his presence.

Sylvia closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

She was simply worrying too much; that was all. Father was probably on his way back and would be home by nightfall in one piece.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The knock at the door interrupted Sylvia's thoughts, and she stood up; stealing a glance at the clock hanging on the opposite wall.

4:36

She frowned again. Who could be calling at this time?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Sylvia hurried to the door, praying that it wasn't who she thought it was. She hesitated when she reached it; hovering uncertainly between answering it, or going back to her work and wait for whomever it was to leave.

Might as well make sure.

She dragged a stool that was sitting off to the side in front of the door, and stepped up onto it; standing on tiptoe so she could better see out of the small window. Sylvia squinted at the warped glass, trying to make out the person who was standing outside. A flash of blonde caught her eye, and she pressed her back against the door and groaned.

She could recognize that blonde head anywhere.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Sylvia squeezed her eyes shut.

"_Please, Please, Pleeeeeaaaaase, just go away!" _She prayed silently.

KnockKnockKnockKnockKnock.

His knocks became more insistent, and she could feel the vibrations reverberate against her back. She sighed heavily and stepped down from the stool.

Might as well answer him and chase him off so he wouldn't be hanging around her doorstep. Sylvia set the stool back in its original position and slowly, hesitantly, opened the door.

"Good day to you, Sylvia." Florence said, flashing his familiar smile.

Sylvia's mouth fell open in shock. There stood Florence dressed in his finest apparel; his boots were polished to a shiny black; a rose sat in the pocket of his neat, black tuxedo coat. His blonde hair was combed to a smooth, glossy sheen, and a strong smell of cologne wafted up from him.

"F-Florence, what are you doing here?" She asked in bewilderment.

"I came to talk to you, of course." He said, stepping inside before she could even protest.

Sylvia stepped back a few paces.

What was going on here?

"About what?" She asked warily.

Florence chuckled as though it was completely obvious.

"You, of course."

Sylvia turned away from him, trying not to roll her eyes. Of course he would want to talk about her. What else would he have come here for?

"As much as I would like to discuss that with you Florence, I can't right now."

"Oh, why not?"

"I was working."

Hoping the simple reply would be enough; Sylvia strode back into the kitchen and began to replace the unsorted herbs back into the large sack at the other end of the table. She would continue tomorrow, it should be all done then.

She sensed something come up behind her, but ignored it. As each second passed though, she began to feel more and more uncomfortable, until she could no longer stand it. She turned around to see Florence standing a few feet behind her, a condescending smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sylvia's frustration was now so great that she had to force herself to not to turn him around and push him out of the house.

"Florence, I want to be alone." She said firmly, not even trying to hide to annoyance in her voice.

"Now that's cold." Florence replied, sounding hurt, as he came up behind her; grasping her arms and leaning in to whisper in her ear. "I came here so you _wouldn't_ be alone."

Sylvia wrenched herself from his grip and glared at him.

"I appreciate the gesture," She responded stiffly, "but it wasn't needed." She turned away from him and made a beeline for the door. She didn't know what Florence was trying to pull on her, but she was becoming fed up with his act.

"I'm sorry, Florence…" Sylvia said, placing her hand on the doorknob, "but you'll have to go."

She started to open the door.

Florence's hand came up suddenly, and abruptly slammed it shut.

Sylvia whirled around angrily and was startled to see that his face was a mere few feet away from hers. So startled was she at the sudden closeness that her anger completely vanished, and unease mixed with a small amount of fear took its place.

"Don't shoo me away just yet, Sylvia." Florence said, all previous philandering gone from his voice, and his eyes bored into her as his face drew slowly closer.

Sylvia drew away, pressing her back once more against the door, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

"I came here to ask you something very important…something that concerns yours and my futures, and I'm not leaving until I receive an answer."

He drew closer still and Sylvia tried not to sound as uncomfortable as she was feeling.

"Wha-what do you whish to ask me?"

He smiled again.

"I've been thinking lately…that a girl like you shouldn't be spending all of her time alone. Especially when she is young, beautiful, and ever so charming."

"Yes…?" She said warily.

"So…maybe you should have someone to be with you always, so that you won't be so alone."

"What are you trying to say, Florence?" She demanded, her heart pounding in her chest.

His smile widened.

"Marry me."

Sylvia's mind screeched to a sudden halt, and her speech seemed to have died.

Marry him? Was he honestly asking her that?

Then it hit her. Yes…it all made sense now…the visits, the insistent manner, the neatly trimmed appearance; all so he could ask for her hand. The initial shock faded when she came to this realization and stammered,

"Florence…I-I don't know what to say."

"Say; 'yes you'll marry me.'" He said, placing his hands on either side of her head and drawing closer.

No. No. No. No. Noooooo!

Sylvia's mind raced as Florence's face was now nearly a foot away from hers. She had to get him away from her, now! She glanced at the doorknob, and thought about reaching for it, but she couldn't do that without him noticing.

Florence drew closer, and Sylvia could think of only one other solution.

As much as she didn't like using magic around the townspeople, desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I'm sorry, Florence." She said, reciting the incantation in her mind.

His face was now inches from hers.

"But…I don't think that you and I could…work."

Sylvia had barely finished the sentence when she ducked away from Florence, and watched as the door vanished and he fell forward out of the house.

Florence's eyes widened in surprise and shock as he fell down the steps, and into an unpleasant mixture of snow, slush, and mud.

Sylvia watched amusedly with her head poking out of the empty doorway. Even though she knew that it was a bad trick for her to do, she couldn't stop the smile that appeared on her face as Florence spat mud out of his mouth.

Her enjoyment was cut short; however, when she looked up and saw three men standing off to the side. Two of these men were roaring with laughter, and the one that wasn't laughing was dressed in somber black robe and held a book and some papers in his hands. His face expressed that of someone who didn't quite know how to proceed with the current situation.

Sylvia's mouth fell open in astonishment. He had brought the judge, and his two friends as witnesses! She blushed in anger and indignation.

Did he really believe that she would say 'yes' to _him_? _Him_ of all people…

The judge turned to her with a sheepish expression.

"Erm…?"

Without a word to him or and of the men, she darted out of the doorway and ran past them. She continued running down the path; into the town, past the people who were still bustling about, past the shops and stands, past the fountain, out of the main town, and didn't stop until she reached the opposite side of the stone bridge.

Sylvia sank to the ground, panting and shaking with rage.

The arrogance! The sheer and utter conceit! The nerve of that man to drag the judge and his friends to _her _home, thinking that she would automatically say 'yes' to him!

She let out a soft, scornful laugh.

Like she would ever say 'yes' to him.

Sylvia sat there seething as the light from the setting sun reflected off of her hair and danced across the running stream. She cooled down after a few minutes and sighed wearily; raising her head to gaze at the stream.

She could never marry Florence, not if her life depended on it, and it wasn't only because she knew that he was an arrogant bully.

"**No."** Sylvia thought, closing her eyes, **"It's not the only reason."**

It was because she knew that Florence didn't love her. Well… at least not in the truest sense. He did love her, but only as something to possess. He loved her for her looks, not her heart. He was the son of the wealthy landowner, and was used to getting the best of everything. Since she was considered the most beautiful woman in the village, why shouldn't he have her as well?

"**Is that all I am here**_?" _She thought mournfully, _"_**Just some prize to be won? A trophy to be displayed?" **

No.

Sylvia opened her eyes. As long as she stayed here, Florence would continue to pursue her, and he wouldn't rest until she was his.

There was only one solution: Sylvia would have to leave.

It wasn't a new thing for her. She had always had a gypsy soul, and had been to many other places before coming here. She had lingered in each place before she felt that it was time to go somewhere else, or something happened that forced her to leave.

Sylvia closed her eyes again, thinking of how she would go about this. She would have to leave at night, when everybody was sleeping. She didn't' want people to ask too many questions. Cait Sith would come with her of course, she would leave Lekka with Father. She could easily catch a wild chocobo in the plains and go where she needed to.

Where to go though?

She frowned at the thought.

Midgar? No, too many painful memories. Nibelheim? No, it didn't seem right for some reason. Kalm?

She brightened.

Yes…it was a decent choice. It wasn't completely isolated, nor was it bustling and crowded. Besides, she hadn't been there in years, and it would be good to be there again, despite what had happened a year ago.

She smiled. She might even run into an old friend of hers on the way there.

But…she couldn't leave yet. Not without saying good-bye to Father.

Sylvia stood back up. It was decided. She would wait until Father returned, say good-bye, and then leave for Kalm.

"Help! Sylvia! Heeelllp!"

The familiar and desperate cry snapped her back to reality, and she whirled around to face a sight that she wasn't prepared to see.

Lekka was rushing towards her, still dragging the cart, but her gait, though swift; was unsteady, and golden feathers fell to the ground like snow. Cait Sith was clinging to her neck, but his grip was slackening and he looked as though he would fall off.

Father wasn't with them.

Her heart racing in fear, Sylvia ran towards the chocobo. She grabbed the reigns and patted Lekka's neck soothingly; calming the giant bird, but the golden chocobo stood trembling; causing more golden feathers to fall.

With a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, Cait Sith finally slipped off of Lekka's back, but Sylvia caught him just before he hit the ground.

"Cait, what happened? Where's Father?" She asked frantically.

Cait Sith moaned and began to tremble worse than Lekka.

"Pull yourself together, Cait!" Sylvia said, releasing the reigns and shaking the poor thing, "Answer me! Where's Father?"

He moaned again as he stammered out his reply.

"S-Sylvia…Took the wrong way…chased-chased by Guard Hounds…"

With plenty of stammers, and a little encouragement from Sylvia; Cait Sith told her what had happened that night, and her expression became more and more worried as he did.

"So then…" He continued, "It started rainin' somethin' awful, and we ran past this massive building-"

"And you saw Father go inside?" Sylvia interjected.

"Y-yes." Cait Sith answered.

"Are you sure?" She asked more urgently.

"Y-yes." Cait Sith confirmed.

Sylvia stood there; thinking through everything Cait Sith had told her. She _knew_ something was wrong. Why didn't she act sooner? Why didn't she go with them?

She turned her attention back to Cait Sith, who had sunk to the ground in exhaustion.

"Do you know where this building is?" She inquired.

Cait Sith looked up at her in surprise, but nodded.

"Then take me to him."

"But Sylvia-" Cait Sith began, but the determination in her brilliant blue eyes told him there was no arguing.

"Don't worry Cait." She told him reassuringly, "I'll be with you this time."

His whiskers perked up slightly and he gave her a weak smile, then got to his feet; ready to set off with her.

Sylvia took hold of Lekka's reigns again.

"Let's go."

**Soooooooo…what do you think? Not as exciting as the last chapter, I know, but look forward to the next chapter! That is when Sephiroth and Sylvia finally meet! AH! I'm excited! And I hope that those who are reading this will be too. Oh, and for future reference:**

**Bold words: **Thoughts

_Italics: _Emphasis

_Underlined Italics: _The voice of the Goddess, and the voices that Sylvia hears.

**Hope this will help later on in the story. Well, look forward to Chapter 7 dear readers! Coming soon! Ciao! **


	8. Chapter 7

**Hello again! Sorry about the wait, so to make up for my procrastination and my damned writer's block, I'm making this chapter REAAAALLLLYYYY long for you guys. But, here it is…the one you've all been waiting for. This is the chapter where Sylvia and Sephiroth finally meet! I'm not going to spoil this for you guys, so I'm going to leave you to read, review, and comment! Thanks for all of you who are following this! So…without any further ado, here is chapter 7! **

* * *

It was nightfall when they reached the path. Sylvia rode on Lekka's back with Cait Sith sitting in front of her. She pulled her mantle tighter around her shoulders and adjusted the strap to the bag that hung at her side.

They had to go back to the house in order to obtain these. Thankfully, they had no trouble getting through the village, as there were very few people out at the time. After unhitching the cart from Lekka and gathering what she needed from the house, she locked and sealed the door and windows by magic. Sylvia doubted that Florence would want to show up again after her refusal, but she wasn't taking any chances.

She nudged Lekka forward along the dark path. The chocobo balked at first, but with a few words of encouragement from Sylvia, she shook her head and trotted forward.

"Just keep following this path?" Sylvia asked, looking down at Cait Sith.

"Yes. It'll take us right to it."

""Let's pick up the pace then. There's no time to waste." Sylvia replied, and gave the golden chocobo two kicks on the belly.

With a squawk, Lekka broke into a full gallop, becoming a golden blur in the midst of the darkness.

Sylvia clung tightly to the reigns and leaned forward; keeping all of her senses tuned for any sign of enemies, but none appeared as Lekka's thundering gait echoed through the night.

The trees began to thin ahead of them as they sped down the path. Then, they cleared altogether, and Sylvia could see the outline of a high, solid stone wall split in the middle with a wrought iron gate.

"Whoa" She said to Lekka as they approached the gate, and the chocobo came to a halt. Sylvia stared fixedly beyond the gate and at the imposing structure before her.

"Is this it?" She asked Cait Sith.

He gulped and nodded, looking terrified.

"Aye, this is it."

Sylvia studied the building carefully. It was a château, and based off of the architecture and design, it was probably built during the early or mid 19th century. She searched her memory for anything that seemed familiar about this place, but could find nothing to suggest that.

"I have no memory of this place." She murmured to herself.

Lekka's eyes grew wide, and she began to back away; squawking and beating her wings.

"Lekka!" Sylvia cried, leaping nimbly off of the chocobo's back and coming around to stand in front of her. "Shhh…Lekka. It's alright, it's alright…" She whispered softly to Lekka.

The chocobo calmed, but began to tremble slightly. Sylvia took the reigns and led the golden chocobo towards the gate. She pushed on the rusted bars to check if it was locked, and was surprised when it swung open with an ancient squeak.

Taking a quick glance behind her to make sure no monster s were about, she coaxed the chocobo through. When this was accomplished, she hurriedly shut the gate behind them; knowing what would happen if she left it open.

"Sylvia, look!" Cait Sith said in a hushed tone and pointed at the ground in front of them.

Sylvia turned to where he was indicating and saw what appeared to be a torn piece of clothing lying on the ground. She hastened towards it and knelt to see that it was indeed just that. Picking it up, she rubbed the material between her fingers and her expression became grim.

There was no mistaking it. It was a piece of Father's cloak.

"Father…" Sylvia said softly, raising her worried eyes towards the château.

She rose and took hold of Lekka's reigns.

"Come on, let's go."

Cait Sith nodded and Sylvia led them silently towards the towering doors of the château. When they reached them, Cait Sith swung his legs over to the chocobo's side; preparing himself to jump off, but Sylvia took not of this and shook her head.

"No Cait, not this time."

Cait Sith looked at her in shock.

"B-but Sylvia! Surely you're not plannin' on going' in there alone?"

That's exactly what I plan on doing." She replied calmly.

"But-"

"Cait!"

Cait Sith sighed. Her mind was made up.

"Just be careful, lass."

"I can handle myself." She assured him, "Don't worry, I won't be long. I'll be back with Father ready to go home before the night is over."

Sylvia gave the worried Cait Sith a quick smile, then; taking a deep breath turned towards the door. Without hesitating, she reached for the tarnished brass handle, and opened the door.

Darkness greeted her, punctuated only by the dim light of the torches that flickered in brackets set into the walls and pillars. Then there was the smell; the cold, musty smell of a place that had long been abandoned.

Sylvia shut the door behind her, and turned back around. She could make out the faint details of the grand staircase, the supporting pillars, and some of the doors that sat between them. Sylvia reached into her bag and drew out a golden-colored materia. She held the small orb close to her face and murmured the incantation. A blaze of light shone forth from the materia, and she held it up to give enough light for her to see.

Sylvia preceded slowly forward; casting her light around the entire area, and after finding no sign of anybody, turned towards the torches; thinking hard.

From the general appearance of this place, it had definitely been abandoned for a few years, but…

Sylvia took a closer look at the torches and discovered that not all of them burned wood. In fact, most of them were electric or gas.

The wheels in her mind began to turn rapidly.

If the torches were lit, then there had to be _someone _here to light them.

"Hello?" Sylvia called out softly, her voice echoing through the chamber.

Silence.

"Hellooo?" She called again.

Silence again.

She sighed. It seemed as though she would have to find Father herself then. Sylvia took one last glance around her to be sure of any sign of life then, with a determined expression, made her way towards the stairs.

"You had to do that, didn't you?" the redheaded SOLDIER said crossly to his companion, who was leaning against the opposite wall.

Angeal sighed.

"I was only trying to be hospitable."

"Yeah, and what happens?" Genesis asked arching an eyebrow, "Let's see…" he began to count off of his fingers, "The old man was knocked out, and then thrown in the dungeon. Sephiroth went on _another _rampage and we almost got ourselves killed trying to calm him down. Then, he had _another _coughing fit because of that, and to top it off…our injuries seem to have made our Geostigma worse."

Genesis fingered his bandages and glared daggers at Angeal.

The dark-haired SOLDIER had to refrain from rolling his eyes while the redhead continued to rant.

"None of this would've happened if you had kept your mouth shut and listened to me! If you'd followed my advice, then we wouldn't have had this situation, and we would-"

"Hello?"

The redhead stopped immediately at the soft cry, and turned to Angeal with a bewildered expression.

"Did you hear that?" He asked his friend earnestly.

Angeal, (who had pulled himself away from the wall), nodded and both men strained their ears; hardly daring to believe what they had heard.

"Father? Where are you?" The feminine voice called again.

They exchanged quick, disbelieving glances before rushing down the corridor. They paused when they reached the end, and Genesis peered cautiously around the corner.

"Do you see anything?" Angeal asked anxiously.

"No…huh? Wait, hold on!"

The dark-haired SOLDIER's heart pounded as he watched Genesis squint in the darkness. Then, the redhead's eyes grew wide and he whirled around so fast that Angeal took a few startled steps back.

"Get back!" The redhead said urgently.

"What is it?" The dark-haired SOLDIER inquired.

"Just get back, now!"

"But what-"Angeal was interrupted as Genesis spun him around and began to push him back down the corridor.

"Genesis, what is it?" He asked in an irritated tone when Genesis finally stopped pushing him.

"Shhh!" Was the redhead's reply.

"What-?"

"SHHHH! It's coming this way!"

The two men waited on bated breath for whatever Genesis claimed was coming to appear. Angeal was about to go see for himself, but at that moment, he noticed a light approaching the entry to the corridor that he and Genesis had been moments before. It gradually grew brighter and brighter until it illuminated nearly the entire hall, and Angeal could see clearly who was carrying it.

He saw the small, slim figure of a woman with long, sky blue hair and what appeared to be a white mantle on her shoulders.

"Hello? Father, are you here?" She called out, casting her light around the area.

Bothe men pressed their backs against the wall to avoid being seen, and after a few tense seconds, she continued down the adjacent hallway. Genesis darted forward with Angeal at his heels, and peeked around the corner to see her walking down the corridor; looking left to right as though searching for something.

"It's a girl!" Angeal exclaimed.

"I can see that, idiot." Genesis replied somewhat irritably.

"No, don't you see?" the dark-haired SOLDIER said, shaking his head, "She's the one! She's the one who's going to lift this curse!"

Understanding dawned on the redhead's face, and he leaned towards his friend.

"Are you certain?"

"Of course!" Angeal replied. The dark-haired SOLDIER's gaze returned to her, "Father…? That must mean the old man. Is she looking for him?"

"It would seem so." Genesis answered his eyes still on her.

"Well then…we should help her." Angeal said.

"How?" The redhead asked.

"I have a plan…Follow me." The dark-haired SOLDIER replied, taking a few steps forward.

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Genesis groaned.

Sylvia let out a sigh of frustration.

It seemed that finding Father would be no easy task. She had wandered the seemingly endless series of corridors and hallways of the château and had checked nearly every room she came across, but there was no sign of Father (or anyone else for that matter), anywhere.

She looked around despairingly. She had sorely underestimated the size of this place. It would take ages to find him through this maze. Even if she did find him, there was no telling what sort of condition he could be in. He could be sick, or hurt, or…

Tep…tep…tep.

Sylvia froze in her tracks. Her body tensing as all of her senses became fully alert.

Tep…tep…tep.

It sounded like…footsteps. Footsteps that were getting closer to her. She slowly turned around, ready to attack should it be an enemy.

Tep…tep…tep.

Sylvia remained where she was as the footsteps suddenly came to a halt. Her heart beat wildly against her chest as she waited for whatever had caused the footsteps to continue moving. All remained silent; however, and Sylvia raised her light, hoping to catch a glimpse of the footsteps maker. The only thing that was visible though, was the outlines and details of the paintings and sculptures that lined the walls.

Puzzled, Sylvia swung her light from left to right, but was met by the same sight.

Tep…tep…tep.

The footsteps started again, but they seemed to be growing fainter this time.

Curious, Sylvia began to walk forward as the footsteps continued down the hall. She stopped for a moment as they continued on their way. She thought that whatever it was would continue, but to her surprise, she heard them stop, and then start up again.

They were coming towards her again. Sylvia remained where she was and once again, cast her light around the corridor. Again, there were no signs of anyone else.

Tep…tep…tep.

The footsteps drew away again. There was a pause, and then…

Tep…tep…tep.

They drew back towards her again.

Then it clicked.

Whatever was making those footsteps wanted her to follow, but to where?

"**Could they be leading me to Father?**" Sylvia thought, and a thrill of hope rose within her, but at the same time a warning, cautious voice spoke within her mind. _**"You don't know what's making these footsteps. You don't know where it will lead you. For all you know, it could be an enemy luring you into a trap."**_

Sylvia hesitated. True…she didn't have a clue what was making the footsteps, and there was no way to tell for sure if they would lead her to Father…

The footsteps paced away from and back towards her, and seemed to be getting impatient. Sylvia took a deep breath and drew herself up straighter.

Trap or not, she was going to take her chances. If it turned out to be an enemy, then she would be ready for it.

With her face set and her decision made, Sylvia started forward.

Almost immediately the footsteps started up again. Sylvia followed them as they led her down the hall that she had previously been through, and down the stairwell. She was halfway down when she heard their pace begin to quicken, and she too sped up her pace so as not to lose them. Sylvia was now back on the first floor, and she continued following them down the hall. They took an abrupt left down an adjacent corridor, and she was forced to run to keep up with their pace. They continued that way for some time, and then took a right. Sylvia followed them, wondering where exactly they were taking her.

It took her a moment to realize that the footsteps had disappeared.

She skidded to a halt at the end of the hall, and stared disbelievingly around her. She strained her ears for the sound of the footsteps, but was met with the sound of her own panting. Other than that, it was completely silent.

Sylvia let out a groan of dismay. Was it all a trick?

Crrreeeeeaaaaak…

Sylvia whirled around with one hand in her bag, and the other swinging her light around frantically. She slowly let out the breath that she had held and withdrew her hand from her bag. She noticed something off to her right, and when she cast her light in that area; was surprised to see a door hanging ajar.

Taking one last glance around her, Sylvia approached it and cautiously stepped inside. It appeared to be some sort of study. There were two bookshelves that were lined with books, and a large, ornate desk sat in front of a window where moonlight streamed in onto the floor.

Sylvia shut the door behind her and murmured a few words. The light from the materia dimmed slightly, and she gazed at her surroundings, unsure of what to do. It seemed that the footsteps had led her to this specific room, but what for?

She wandered around the room; examining every inch, but found nothing that was out of the ordinary.

Or so she could perceive.

Tap. Tap. Tap

The sudden noise caused her to jump, nearly dropping her materia. Breathing hard, she tightened her grip around the orb and stood still, waiting.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Sylvia turned towards the wall where she believed the tapping came from. Unlike the other walls in the room this one was completely bare; with no paintings, or anything propped up against it. She walked slowly towards it and paused for a few seconds before reaching out a tentative hand.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She pressed her ear against the smooth surface, hoping her theory was correct. Several seconds went by, then-

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She gasped slightly and drew back. There was someone on the other side of the door.

"**Then…**" She thought, "**There must be some sort of secret room or passageway behind this wall.**"

The only question was how to open it.

Sylvia turned around and contemplated the rest of the room. There was one bookshelf that caught her eye. It was closest to the wall, and it was lined with books that looked exactly the same, with gold lettering on the spine that glinted softly in her light.

She could be grasping at straws, but then again…

Sylvia went over to stand in front of it. She knew that it would be a waste of time to pull all of them, so she held her light close to the books as she examined them. They all were exactly alike though, and by the third row, Sylvia was beginning to get irritated. She continued to run her light across the row of books; the gold and silver letters gleaming-wait.

She brought her light back a few books to the left. A gleam of silver caught her eye and she leaned in more closely. Unlike the rest, this book's lettering was silver instead of gold.

"I wonder…" She murmured as she reached out and pulled on the book.

It slid out part of the way before stopping with a click. There was a sliding, scraping noise, and Sylvia turned around to see part of the wall sliding away to reveal a dark passageway. She was slightly relieved to see that no one was there, but it did nothing to stifle the grim anticipation she felt.

She stepped hesitantly towards the entrance, murmuring softly, and the materia in her hand shone brighter. The light revealed a series of stone steps leading down into darkness with similar stone walls on either side. She shivered at the cold air that came forth from the passage and drew a deep, shuddering breath.

There was no telling what awaited her down there…weather it was who she was seeking or an enemy waiting to kill her.

Only one way to find out.

Sylvia tightened her grip on the materia and took one last glance behind her before she began her descent into the darkness.

The cold, damp air made her shiver, but she pulled her mantle tighter around her and continued her descent.

Down…down…down. Fifty steps…a hundred steps. She stopped counting.

Down…down…down…The smell of darkness and dampness grew stronger; making her more and more uneasy, but she pressed on.

Down…down…down…

Finally, Sylvia could make out the faint outline of an entranceway, and broke into a run; almost face planting when she reached the bottom. Panting slightly, she drew herself up and observed the area around her.

It seemed to be some sort of prison or dungeon. The walls and floor were cold, damp stone with water dripping from the ceiling. There was a grate there where moonlight streamed through, creating a large, silver web on the floor.

Sylvia figured that she must be several feet below the ground, and away from the main building, but a harsh, hacking sound from the other end of the room jolted her out of her thoughts, and she reached for her bag once more.

"Wh-who's there?" She called out.

"Whose voice is that? It canna be who I think it is…" A familiar, weak voice answered.

"Father!" Sylvia cried, "Where are you?"

"Here lass…" He answered, and Sylvia saw an arm wave weakly between the bars of one of the doors. She rushed towards it and clasped Father's hand; shuddering when she felt how cold it was.

In her kneeling position, Sylvia could see his smiling face behind the bars, but he looked thin and haggard, as though he had suffered a terrible nightmare.

"Father, are you alright?" She asked in concern.

"I'm fine, Sylvia." He replied, but no sooner had he said this, he began to cough. Sylvia became more worried. The old man was sick, and if he didn't get treated soon, he could die.

"Who did this to you?" She demanded, but Father shook his head.

"Listen to me Sylvia; ye need to get out of here." He said urgently.

"Why?" She inquired.

"What are you doing here?!" A voice shouted behind her, and before Sylvia could react; felt a strong hand seize her wrist and force her around.

She screamed in fear and pain, and the materia she was holding flew out of her hand onto the floor. Separated from its possessor, the light vanished, leaving Sylvia in in the darkness. Fear came over her. Even though she couldn't really see who was there, she could feel a presence; a powerful, terrible presence that felt like death itself.

Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and she could see a tall, dark figure in the other side of the moonlight web.

"Wh-who _are_ you?" She asked terrified.

Silence was the only answer, and then a deep, slightly hoarse, male voice spoke.

"Nothing…but a memory."

She shivered at the coldness of the voice. Her blood ran cold, and her limbs trembled, but she summoned up her courage, and tried not to sound as afraid as she was.

"Please, let Father go."

A harsh, mocking laugh echoed through the room.

"Let him go? What a foolish girl, can't you see he's my prisoner?"

"Please," She begged, "Please, let him go. Can't you see he's sick? He could die!"

"What's it to me if he does? One less human to worry about! He should never have come here!" The figure shouted harshly, making her draw back.

Sylvia wasn't one to give up easily though, she had come this far, and she wasn't going to come out empty-handed.

"Please," She continued, "Isn't there anything I can do? There must be something."

"There is nothing you can do." The figure replied somewhat sorrowfully.

She slumped forward in despair. This man…thing…whoever it was; had no intention of releasing Father and no amount of pleading would be enough. Unless…

No…

The idea made Sylvia sick to her stomach. She didn't want to do it, but…if it was the only way…then…

She lifted her face to the figure.

"Then take me instead."

"NO! Sylvia!" Father objected, but Sylvia ignored him.

"You?" The figure scoffed, "What would-"but then he stopped himself.

There was short, pensive silence, and then the figure spoke again.

"You would…take your father's place?" He asked, sounding almost curious.

"Yes." Sylvia replied as bravely as she could, "If I do though, you must promise me that you will let him go." She swallowed, "In return, I give my word that I will stay here. I won't run, I won't try to escape. I'll stay here…forever, if you wish."

For the longest time the figure was silent, then there was a slight movement from the head of the figure.

"I see…very well. I'll let the old man go according to the terms you have spoken."

"Wait!" Sylvia said, "Will…will you come into the light?"

The figure stiffened. "Why?"

She shrank back slightly at the sharp tone, "Please, forgive me, but since I am going to be staying here…it's only fair that I should be able to see your face.

The figure stood there; hesitating, then, stepped slowly into the moonlight.

She saw a pair of black leather boots that went up to the person's knees, then the trim of a black leather coat with silver buckles.

It can't be…

Her eyes traveled upwards.

The top half of the coat was split to reveal two leather straps crossing a bandaged chest.

Her eyes grew wide. No…please, no…

She saw the two silver pauldrons glinting in the moonlight…

She trembled. She didn't want to see anymore, but her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own as they locked onto the bowed, silver head.

He raised his head slowly, the moonlight dancing across his pale skin.

No…no…it isn't possible…

She found herself staring into cold, emerald-green eyes.

She almost screamed.

The nightmare had returned.

Sephiroth.

* * *

**Duhn. Duhn. Duuuuuhhhhnnn…Well, how did I do? Was it suspenseful enough? Sorry I had to end it there, but I didn't want to make it **_**too **_**long. What happens next? Well, that's for the next chapter! Hehehe….I know, I'm evil. You're patience will not go unrewarded, however; I will continue writing and please rate, comment, and review. If you find anything that's bad about it, please tell me; I could use a little constructive criticism. (Note: Sorry this took longer than it was supposed to be. My damned writers block attacked me again. So I hope this make up for it) Thanks to all those who are still reading! Stay tuned for chapter 8! **


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